The Scarcity Plot
by RayWritesThings
Summary: "She did not understand this loud and strange looking pair, where they had come from or what they should want to help her for. She had an equally strange feeling that would not change." Or, just another day in the lives of the Doctor and Donna Noble. Pre-Relationship, Rated for some blood/violence
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, readers. I've decided to start cross-posting some of my fics from AO3 and tumblr over to FFN, so if you recognize this story most likely you've read it on either of my accounts there (Ray_Writes and raywritesthings, respectively). This story has two parts; the second part will be posted tomorrow. If you haven't read it before, I hope you enjoy!**

**-RayWritesThings**

**The Scarcity Plot: Chapter One**

Larne of the Red Forests blew out a breath, her head resting against the stone wall at her back. Of course it had been a vain hope her mission to the Capitol would've ended anywhere but here, but she'd needed to inform their infiltrators of the next stage. It was fortunate she had been captured after leaving their company. As long as the Interrogators did not attempt to break her for information on Aerka or the others, she would not have completely failed her cause. If she was lucky, they would simply hold her here till she died.

She was unable to tell the passage of time in her cell, but she had slept and been brought food both before and after. The food was good, and her stomach churned at the thought that she ate better as a prisoner than when she was free. The famine and subsequent food shortage truly had been a lie. Other than that, she had no break in the monotony or silence.

Very suddenly, that changed.

"Oi! Watch those hands!" A woman's voice snapped from down the corridor just as the door opened. She did not sound very much like one of the guards.

"Listen, you don't need to do this," said a second voice, this time male. "I told you, we're just travelers. Just touring the universe!"

"More like touring the dungeons of the universe," the same woman scoffed.

"Donna, not now."

They were coming closer. A man and woman both of very pale skin being led back-to-back by a pair of guards, right to her cell. The key was turned in the lock and the couple were unceremoniously shoved in. The woman nearly fell and it was only her being chained at the wrists to her companion that stopped her.

"What's your name? You can bet I'm gonna report you!" She barked at the guard that had done the shoving. He turned away, completely impassive. "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

"It's no use," Larne stated. "They won't listen."

The man was facing her and so his eyes landed on her first. He shuffled around slightly to give the woman a view of her as well. "Oh, hello! You must be our cellmate."

"Yes," she answered, regarding them suspiciously. "I appear to be." Was this some sort of game of the Interrogators?

"So, what you in for?"

The man twisted round as best he could to regard the one called Donna incredulously. "What are you using prison slang for?"

She shrugged as best she could with arms restrained. "When in Rome!"

"We're not _in_ Rome."

"And whose fault is that? 'Oh, don't worry Donna, I'll get it right this time'—"

"The TARDIS landed us here! For what reason I'm not sure yet, but I'll figure it out."

"I've been detained on suspicion of conspiring against the Capitol," Larne interjected when it seemed they intended to carry on like that even further.

His eyes lit up in the dim light given off by a torch some ways down the corridor. "Oh, a resistance! Love a resistance!"

"Shh!" Larne hissed, and the man's mouth snapped shut.

"Sorry about him," the woman named Donna said, leaning her head back on the man's shoulder to whom she was still shackled in indication. "He's a bit excitable."

Larne was of the opinion that both seemed incredibly excitable, but she judged it wise not to say.

"Donna, I need you to try and reach around—"

"You _what_?"

"My _pocket_, Donna. They didn't take the sonic, but I can't reach it with my hands like this—actually, maybe—" He looked to her again very sharply. "What's your name?"

"Larne. Of the Red Forests."

"Larne, nice to meet you. I'm the Doctor. This is Donna," he said with another head tilt. "If you wouldn't mind trying to reach a little silver instrument in my pocket—sort of like a pen—I can get us out of here."

If this were some sort of setup, it was too ridiculously obvious. She stood slowly from the narrow wooden bench that had been her perch.

He gave her an encouraging grin. Larne stepped forward, then finally reached into his pocket, though her eyes carefully studied his face all the while for any hint of deception.

Except his pocket did not end. Larne withdrew suddenly. "What sort of trick is this? Your clothes!"

"You might have warned her," the one named Donna said.

"Right, sorry."

"Listen, Larne," the woman looked at her with eyes kind and sincere, willing her to pay attention, "I know we seem a bit weird to you and alien. I mean he is alien, like an actual alien."

"You are, too, Donna, this isn't your planet," the man pointed out.

"Oi, in the middle of something, Spaceman," she retorted just as quickly. "Anyway, you just got to trust us. We're not from here, but we know what we're doing. He does, at least."

"We want to help you," the one called Doctor picked up right where his companion had left off. "But you've got to help us first. Okay?"

She did not understand this loud and strange looking pair, where they had come from or what they should want to help her for. She had an equally strange feeling that would not change.

Slowly, she nodded and stepped forward again. This time she expected it when her arm sunk in nearly to the elbow with no resistance, and she dug around in the pocket a few moments before her fingers brushed something matching the description he'd given. "There is a thin cylinder."

"That's it, that's it! Oh, nicely done!" He enthused.

Larne passed it to him and watched with some interest as he maneuvered the instrument so that the tip was pointed at their restraints. Then he pressed a button, and a high-pitched whirring echoed all around the cell as the instrument lit up blue on the end.

The chains fell to the floor with a clatter, and both Doctor and Donna momentarily sagged into each other with relief before jumping apart.

"Oh thank God, my arms were going numb." The woman shook out the aforementioned limbs as she spoke.

"Yeah, not the most comfortable position we've ever been in," the man agreed. He barely spared the time to stretch his own arms, instead checking the red marks around his companion's wrists. "This might start to bruise, but there'll be something in the TARDIS for that. You'll be right as rain in no time." His smile was just as bright as before, yet there was something less manic but rather softer in his eyes as he gazed at the woman.

Larne tried not to twitch impatiently and moved to wait by the door.

"Can't wait," the one called Donna was saying, then turned towards Larne. "So, ready to get the hell out of here?"

"I am not certain," she answered truthfully. "The most I can hope for is to hide in the sewers until they hunt me down again. The boat that would have taken me home has already departed, if the Capitol did not capture it."

The one named Donna appeared rather disturbed at her bleak assessment of her situation, but the one called Doctor hardly seemed concerned. "Well, good thing we've got a ship of our own. We'll give you a lift." He went around her to the door, then used the same silver instrument to somehow disengage the lock. The one named Donna and then Larne followed him close behind into the corridor. As he led them to the door at the end, she took the torch out of its sconce in the wall. Fire was a fine weapon, and certainly better than none.

The woman kept looking at her. Sad, pondering glances.

"What?"

"You really are a resistance fighter. How old are you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters," the one named Donna argued. "You're so young."

"They always are," her companion muttered darkly.

"The resistance is all I've ever known. There would be no point to my life without it," Larne stated plainly. "Otherwise, I might as well join the ranks of those sitting silent and afraid in the Capitol, or the guards that preside over them fat and content. If it takes until I am very old, if it takes until long after I am dead, I will continue to fight."

"That won't be necessary." The one called Doctor had stopped at the door and the weight of his stare was suddenly dark and heavy, and cutting like steel. "The Capitol and their rulers' excess ends today. You've been taught to fight?"

Larne nodded eagerly. The one called Doctor reached a hand out for the torch and she handed it over.

"Now be ready to run."

He suddenly flung the door open, then pitched the torch at the threadbare rug in the middle of the chamber beyond. The guards, who had been sitting with food and drink at a table on the other side of the room, leapt up with cries of alarm as the flame caught.

"_Allons-y_!" The one called Doctor shouted, taking off down a side corridor with the one named Donna hot on his heels. Their hands had somehow already found each other's, and the woman reached back just in time to grab Larne's and tug her along. She was too stunned to protest.

The one called Donna wasn't. "Did you just commit arson?"

"Only on a minor scale! They'll have those flames out in no time, and then we'll really be in trouble. Oh! There's a window. Come on, Larne, up you get! You're smallest." He used the same device as before and then was pushing the window out while the one called Donna urged her forward. The two of them moved practically in synchrony to lift her up towards the daylight. Larne grabbed onto the windowsill with both hands and wriggled out onto a dirt path running around the prison.

"Oi!" The one named Donna was halfway through the window now, red hair falling in her face as she looked back over her shoulder. "Hands!"

"They've got to go somewhere, Donna!"

Larne stepped forward, grabbing the woman's upper arms and helping pull her out.

"Thanks," she wheezed at her, gaining her feet only to turn back towards the window. "He won't be so hard. Hardly ways a thing, he's so skinny."

"I can hear you, you know that?" The one called Doctor was already attempting to get purchase on the windowsill.

"Duh!"

They both reached for an arm, Larne with slightly more urgency as she could pick up the sounds of the guards approaching. As soon as he had clambered out with their help, the Doctor shut the window and used the silver device on it again.

"TARDIS?" The one named Donna said. They had infrequently been using that word, which Larne did not understand. Perhaps there was no translation from their alien language, wherever they were from.

"TARDIS," the one called Doctor agreed, and then Larne's hand was in someone else's again as they ran, people staring after them as they cut through the midday market.

They slowed upon reaching a narrow alley that contained a few rotting crates and strangest box Larne had ever seen. It was large, very blue, with a light on the top and words printed on it that hardly made any sense. Police?

The couple were headed straight for it, and the one called Doctor withdrew a key from his strange pockets. "Larne, remember what Donna said about us being weird and alien?"

"Yes."

"Well. Good." He opened one of the doors and motioned her inside.

What Larne found beyond the doors, however, was impossible. "I do not understand."

"It's his ship," the one named Donna explained gently, guiding her further up the ramp she stood on to allow all of them in. The door shut, and she could no longer hear the sounds of the market. "We use it to travel across all of time and space."

"Travel _time_?"

"Yeah, it's brilliant."

"And it's what we're going to use to get you back to your resistance," the Doctor of the Blue Box stated. He placed himself right in front of the strange central column, the base of which was covered in all sorts of buttons and dials and levers. She could not begin to make sense of it. "The Red Forests, you said?"

"Yes."

"Right then, on we go!" The man flipped a lever and the whole place shook and groaned. Larne reached for a railing in alarm.

"It's okay, it's just what it does!" Donna of the Blue Box tried to assure her, but Larne remained rigid and tense the entire time the room shuddered. The other two were somehow able to keep their feet as they ran rings around the central column, pressing at buttons and other controls.

"No, no, no, Donna, the horizontal hold!"

"I thought this was it!"

"No! The one next to it!"

"That's not what you said last time!"

They were the strangest couple she had ever met. All this shouting and bickering, and yet they worked together seamlessly and only seemed to want to be near the other.

There was a final thud and the place thankfully stopped moving or making any other distressed sounds. The Doctor of the Blue Box raced past her down the ramp and to the doors. "The Red Forests!"

"How? We have not left this place," Larne pointed out.

"Oh, just you watch," Donna of the Blue Box told her with a smile, hurrying after the man. At a loss, Larne followed down the ramp, yet when she reached the doors a completely different yet wholly familiar sight met her eyes.

She was home.

"Now, listen, there's been a bit of a mixup. We're not invaders," the Doctor of the Blue Box was explaining to the spear pointed at his face.

Larne cried out in delight. "Aerka!" Her sister lowered the spear in shock as Larne ran at her for an embrace.

"Larne? But how? You were said to have been captured!"

"It was them," she explained hurriedly, gesturing to the traveling couple still being watched cautiously by a number of the others. "These people were placed in my cell and helped me to escape. They brought me safe passage from the Capitol in this box!" Even if she could not understand how.

The five scouts Aerka had with her also lowered their weapons as her sister stepped forward. "My apologies. I am Aerka of the Red Forests. Please, accept my thanks for returning my sister to me."

"Of course," Donna of the Blue Box said with a warm smile.

"Stay as long as you wish. You and your husband are welcome friends to our cause."

"Oh, we're not married—" the Doctor of the Blue Box began.

"He's _so_ not my husband," Donna of the Blue Box spoke at the same time. "We're not together."

Aerka looked back at her in confusion, to which Larne shrugged. She was surprised at this news as well, having spent so much time in their company observing them.

"But, speaking of your cause—namely overthrowing the Capitol, am I correct?" The man asked. "Because I've got a few ideas about that."

Aerka took him aside to hear his council, leaving Larne and Donna of the Blue Box to recount their escape to the others. Rations were passed around, which their guest politely declined as they told the story.

"What sort of tool can unlock chains or a door just by pointing at it?" Porin questioned.

"He calls it a sonic screwdriver," the woman explained. "Sonic cause it makes a noise. Haven't figured out the screwdriver bit yet."

"And I have not figured out either of you yet," Larne remarked.

"Me?"

"You said you traveled the universe together. In the Blue Box."

The woman nodded. "Yeah, we do."

"But you are not 'together'?" She echoed the woman's words.

"Oh! Well I meant, we're just mates—friends!" She amended when Larne looked at her. "Best friends traveling the universe."

"I see," Larne said, though she did not.

"Well, good," said Donna of the Blue Box, though she did not look sure of that herself. "Cause that's all we are."

"Everyone!" Aerka had returned with the Doctor of the Blue Box, who placed himself back at his companion's side. "We must discuss a new strategy. This Doctor's Blue Box, it has the ability to travel through the Capitol's defenses."

"We could seize the Capitol!"

"We could destroy the Leader and his Interrogators!"

"No. No destroying, not if that means killing," the Doctor of the Blue Box interrupted.

Larne looked at him incredulously. "They have taken everything from us! Land, food, our own people they jail just for daring to speak out against them!"

"But killing isn't the answer."

"He's right," Donna of the Blue Box spoke up. "I mean, you all are hiding out here in the woods because you're seen as rebels. If you kill the Leader, well then they'll never see you as anything else! You don't need to kill. You just need to show everyone you're right."

There was wisdom in her words. She could see how Aerka and the others were all affected; though none were more so than the Doctor of the Blue Box. He watched his companion with that same soft look from before in his eyes, a smile proud and fond allowed openly on his face. And Larne still did not understand—in what way were they not 'together'?

But the cause was more important than a puzzling pair of strangers. "We could take their food. I have seen it. They are eating like the kings they are while we starve. If we could show the people the shortage is false—"

"They will have no choice but to believe us," her sister finished for her. "There would be outrage throughout the country!"

"Now that's more like it!" The Doctor of the Blue Box praised. "There's got to be some way of informing people, the quicker the better."

"Well there's got to be some sort of broadcast system, right?" Donna of the Blue Box asked. "Some way they've been using to spread false information to people. We could get control of that and it'd reach everybody."

"They use radio," Porin added. "The Leader makes daily addresses from his mansion. Everyone in the Capitol is required to have one in their home."

"Brilliant, Donna!" The Doctor of the Blue Box somehow grew only more ecstatic. "Right, so we'll need two groups. One to secure the food, and one to take control of the broadcast system. Donna, you and Aerka will lead the food party. I'll need to get the radio working for us."

"I have been working on a device to preempt their frequency," Porin said. "It is still very rudimentary."

"Oh, that's no trouble! Let me have a look at it and I'm sure we'll have it working in no time. You are?"

"Porin of the Twin Lakes."

"Right, Porin and I will make our way to the broadcasting equipment."

"I will go with you as well," Larne stated.

Aerka shook her head. "Larne, you will stay here—"

"Sister, we both know I am not a child! You have trusted me to be your eyes and ears before. What has changed?"

"I nearly lost you!"

Larne stared at her sister and the tears in her eyes in shock. "I'm sorry. But this has always been bigger than you or me. It's the _cause_. It's our freedom."

After a moment, her sister swallowed and nodded. Then she turned a hardened gaze on the Doctor of the Blue Box. "You will protect my sister."

"I promise," he replied solemnly.

"It's okay," Donna of the Blue Box said softly, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder. "You can trust him."

Larne fared slightly better the second time she entered the strange Blue Box. The others were all about as stunned and alarmed as she had been the first journey, though Porin studied the two strangers' odd dance around the central column intently.

Upon landing at their new destination—what turned out to be a cupboard containing supplies for the cleaning staff of their Leader's mansion—the groups split off, the two strangers exchanging just a brief look before parting ways, apparently communicating all the other needed to know. Larne found herself more intrigued than before. She had been fighting for the resistance what felt like all her life, but these two had fallen into it only today yet acted as though this was their every day!

She led the Doctor of the Blue Box and Porin down a series of passageways, using everything she remembered from the intelligence gathered by their infiltrators. It was Porin who identified the room containing the contraption used for the Leader's broadcast, and he and the Doctor of the Blue Box quickly set to work. Larne stood by the door, keeping watch though occasionally sneaking glances at the stranger.

"Why did you send your friend with the others?"

"Oh, well they'll need her organizational skills," the Doctor of the Blue Box answered. "If anyone can get all of that food packed up and moved before the guards notice, it's her. Donna's brilliant."

"You have mentioned. You do not fear for her?"

He did not even pause to consider the question. "Of course I do. But she knows how to take care of herself, my Donna."

"_Your_ Donna?"

The man looked up, startled. "Er, well I meant—not _my _Donna. She's not—we're not, rather. Listen, just—don't tell her I said that—"

"_Shh_!" There were footsteps coming from down the corridor. Porin leapt to his feet and joined her at the door.

"You there!" A guard hurried down the corridor, another close on his heels. "Rebels! How did you get in?"

Larne looked in alarm to the other two. They were cornered in this room, nothing but the radio parts to possibly aid them.

"That's right, we're rebels and we've reached all the way to your mansion," the Doctor of the Blue Box admitted freely. "What are you gonna do about it?" Was he _insane_?

"Summon the Leader. He will want to deal with them."

One of the guards continued to hold a gun on them even after his fellow left. Larne and Porin exchanged fearful glances, but their strange compatriot did not seem remotely concerned, instead sitting on the little table to wait.

"We're holding them here, sir," the second guard was returning, and with him was a man Larne had never seen in person but whose features she had memorized from every poster and every statue. "Just a handful of them. They broke into the broadcasting station."

"I see." He looked over them each in turn, pausing at the sight of the one called Doctor. "You are not from here."

"He was detained along with a woman earlier, sir. They escaped and we had been tracking them down since."

"And where is the woman? Clever enough not to find herself recaptured."

"Yes she is," the Doctor of the Blue Box agreed.

"So you thought to disrupt my daily address?'

"That is not all we rebels have done."

"Aerka!" Larne cried in dismay. What was she doing? Her sister need to get that food out to the people. Instead her sister was standing in the middle of the corridor defiantly, Donna of the Blue Box flanking her and the others close behind. One of the guards turned a gun on them as well.

"Oh, there's more of you, are there?"

"Yes, and we have uncovered your treachery. Your stores of food are under _our_ control now."

"You think that's everything I have?" The hateful man laughed loudly. "You've helped yourself to some food. Even if I let you go with it right now, what would you accomplish? Feeding yourselves for a handful of days? And really, who would believe you about where you'd gotten it? Everyone _knows_ there's a food shortage!"

"Because you've been lying to them about there being one," the Doctor of the Blue Box stated. He was no longer smiling. "You use it to control them, make them fear going hungry, their families going hungry. Their husbands and wives, their sisters and brothers, their children."

"Your point?"

Donna of the Blue Box's face contorted in disgust. "You're just gonna keep letting them starve to death?"

"Of course! As long as all those people think there is a shortage, they'll pay anything for food. Anything! I've never been so rich, and they've never been so idiotic!"

"Well, thank you, your Leadership. That was exactly what we needed you to say," spoke the Doctor of the Blue Box. "And that concludes today's broadcast, I think." He reached down, switching off the radio transmitter that Larne only just now realized had been on the entire time.

"What?"

"Everyone with a radio heard what he just said?" Donna of the Blue Box checked.

"Yep," said her companion, the end of the word a pop of sound.

"But—how?" The Leader gaped, suddenly not very imposing at all. "How could you have set it up? How could you have known my guards would find you, that I would say those things?"

"Oh, we were always supposed to get caught," the Doctor of the Blue Box revealed with a grin. "It was your voice the people needed to hear, after all. Their Leader, speaking the truth at last."

"You have only yourself to blame," Larne spat at the man she had been raised to fear and revile.

His face contorted, and he reached for the gun of the guard nearest to him. "I will not be defeated by children!"

"Larne!"

She was knocked to the ground just as the shot rang out, and someone fell just in front of her. Two people screamed; her sister who had shouted her name and Donna of the Blue Box.

Larne sat up. The Leader was being held down by Porin and the disarmed guard. The others had taken the gun off the other guard and were making him kneel as well. Sprawled in front of her was the Doctor, red trickling down from a wound on his forehead.

A wound that had been meant for her.

"_Doctor_!" Donna shoved past the Leader and guard on the ground, throwing herself down in front of her companion. Her hands hovered just above his shoulders, as if afraid to touch him.

"It's alright," he slurred, eyes blinking open slowly. "M'alright, Donna. Just grazed me."

"You stupid Spaceman," the woman said fiercely, but her voice shook and a tear fell to splash on his cheek. "What'd you do that for?"

"Couldn't let her…not again."

Donna pressed a hand to her mouth and more tears fell.

"I am sorry," Larne said, shifting forward.

"It's alright," Donna dismissed with a shake of the head before quickly looking back to the Doctor. "What do you need?"

"The TARDIS. Back to…the TARDIS. Help me."

Larne helped lift the Doctor onto his feet. He leaned heavily on his companion. As they shuffled out into the corridor, Aerka hurried to her side and seemed to check her over for injuries.

"I was not the one hurt," she insisted.

"I know, and for that I will always be grateful. Doctor of the Blue Box, you have my thanks again."

The only indication he had heard was his mumbled, "Promised."

"Hey, don't—don't speak. Save your strength," Donna chided him gently.

It was a slow, halting journey back to the Blue Box. Upon entering, the place emitted a low, melancholy hum. They settled the Doctor in a beat-up chair just to the side of the central column. Donna checked him over before leaving him briefly to guide them back to the doors.

"Is there anything we can do?" Aerka asked.

"I am sorry—" Larne began again.

"Don't you worry about us. You've got a whole country to help look after now," she reminded them. "I can take care of him."

"Donna," came the Doctor's weak voice from within the Blue Box.

"Sorry to leave like this. We'll come back sometime," the woman promised. "Keep looking out for each other."

"We will."

"Thank you."

The woman gave them a last smile, then stepped back inside and closed the door. A few moments later Larne watched for the first time as the Blue Box wheezed, a wind whipping up around them before it faded in and out of view then disappeared entirely.

"Such strange people," her sister remarked. "Who were they?"

"The Doctor and Donna of the Blue Box…I do not think we will ever know."

They turned away, ready to shoulder the task at hand. It was everything they'd fought so long for, and it was now theirs thanks to the kindness of the mysterious pair.


	2. Chapter 2

Donna shut the door on the two sisters, then turned around to find the Doctor struggling to his feet. "Oi! What do you think you're doing?"

"Vortex," he groaned, hands reaching out to catch himself on the console.

Donna marched up to him and took hold of his shoulders. "I can do that. At least, I think I can." It was one of the first things he'd taught her, and she nearly had the sequence memorized now.

"The…green switch," he prompted.

Donna started there and then worked her way through, perhaps less fluidly than he would've, but the TARDIS took off nonetheless so she counted it a success.

"Okay, now you are getting in a bed." He accepted her support easily, which scared her more than anything else. The wound had stopped bleeding as freely, but he was so weak. What could she do to help him? A thought occurred to her and she stopped them just at the mouth of the corridor to the med bay. "You sure I shouldn't be taking you to Martha?"

The Doctor took another step, forcing her to keep going so he wouldn't pitch himself forward onto the floor. "Just need rest, Donna."

"You're sure? You're talking like this sort of thing has happened before."

He was silent.

Donna looked at him. "You're kidding. Were you ever gonna mention that? 'I get shot every now and then, Donna, not to worry'?"

"It was a long time ago," he finally managed. "Don't normally plan to…step in front of a bullet."

_Well you did today_, Donna nearly bit out, but stopped herself. Of course he had, after everything with Jenny. It was no surprise Larne had reminded them both of the bright and determined girl they'd lost. His loss more than hers, of course, she had been his daughter. Even so, Donna couldn't help the attachment and sense of responsibility she'd felt and still did feel for Jenny, and she privately wondered if it was at all what motherhood was like. She wouldn't dare presume to ask Spaceman that, though. Maybe Gramps would have an answer for her the next time she dropped in. It'd have to wait awhile, though, since she didn't want to make one of the Doctor's hearts go into arrest over some misunderstanding about her leaving again. How did he ever get on without her?

The med bay doors slid open for them, and Donna helped him to the nearest bed. "Here, your coat." She helped him shrug out of first that then his suit jacket, and Donna also took the liberty of undoing his tie. No point in him strangling himself to death in his sleep by accident. Slowly, she got him sitting on the side of the bed so she could unlace and remove his trainers, and finally she was able to get him settled under the sheets. She'd need to grab more blankets; his skin practically felt like ice.

Donna retrieved a washcloth first, then pulled up a chair to his bedside and began gently wiping away the dried blood running down from his temple. He'd need a shower, too, once he'd got better; it was in his hair. He'd hate that, she thought with a smile as she did her best to clean that off in the meantime. "So, what all happens? Since you've done this before."

"Mostly, I'll just sleep. I might turn a bit cold."

"You're already freezing," she said, placing a hand to his forehead in demonstration. His lips twitched upward in a brief smile.

"Hm. Could have some delirium as well. Nothing serious. S'all rather boring, really. Might want to occupy yourself in the library or something," he suggested, eyes closed.

"No chance, Spaceman. I'm staying right here," she informed him with a soft smile. As if she'd just go off and ignore him while he was recovering. What sort of best mate did he take her for?

He gave another hum in response, and Donna patted one of his hands, then stood and strode to the supply cupboard. There was a whole stack of blankets neatly folded on one of the shelves. She decided three would be enough to start off with.

"Oh, an' my heartbeat an' breathing might not register," the Doctor mumbled.

Donna whirled back around. "What?"

The Doctor did not answer. Donna dropped the blankets, ran back over, felt for his wrist and could find no pulse. His chest wasn't moving with any sign of breath either. He was paler than she'd ever seen him, making the freckles scattered across his cheeks stand out in the harsh fluorescent lighting.

He looked like a corpse.

"Oh my God," Donna breathed. Why had she listened to him? She should have gone straight to Martha! "Doctor." She reached out and touched a cold shoulder, heart in her throat. "Doctor!"

The Doctor's eyes snapped wide open with a great gasp of breath, though they were missing that usual spark to them, and Donna had to catch him when he half-lurched out of the bed to stop him from tipping over. "Blimey! Whazzit, Daleks?"

"You weren't breathing! And- and your hearts!"

He stared at her, uncomprehending. "Well didn't I say? Healing coma, Donna."

"You looked _dead_!" She snapped.

His face fell. "Oh. M'sorry." One of his arms rose but didn't quite make it to her face, instead dropping to rest on her knee, and it was then Donna realized she was crying.

She looked away, wiping at the tears with the back of her hand. "No it's…you just scared me."

"Bottom of the cupboard. There should be…a machine." The Doctor flopped back against the pillows, his brief activity from her startling him awake clearly costing him. "S'more sensitive than Earth equipment. You can hook me up to that if it'll make you feel better."

"Yeah, alright," Donna agreed softly. "Just rest." She watched his eyes slip shut again, then retrieved the dropped blankets and the machine. It occurred to her, as she looked it and the multitude of electrodes over, that she hadn't the faintest idea how it worked. Her first instinct was to go back for the phone and get Martha on the line—God, Martha would be _so_ much better for this, he was probably missing her more than anything right now—but even Donna was pretty sure normal EKGs didn't have this many electrodes. Twice as many for two hearts? Would even Martha know where they all went?

A drawer on the side of the room popped open, and Donna set the machine aside for a moment to investigate. Sitting in the drawer was a thick-looking manual, which when Donna began flipping through it contained a series of diagrams depicting various medical equipment and how to operate them. A guide for companions, she supposed. Well that was a relief.

She came across the machine she'd taken from the cupboard and took the manual with her back to her seat. Maybe she wasn't that good at this sort of thing, but she could do her best to figure it out. Donna glanced up at the Doctor briefly for her own piece of mind—then did a double take. Was that actual _ice_ forming on his skin?

"What—_how_—Martian!" Donna bit out, though careful not to raise her voice and risk waking him too soon again.

He'd said he'd turn cold. Apparently he'd meant he was going to turn into a bloody Popsicle. She felt wholly unprepared and unequipped to deal with any of this, but then, wouldn't anyone? He was the only one of his kind left in the universe. No one else could truly know what was best for him in illness or injury. If he was ever hurt, like now, he was his own best doctor.

No wonder he'd tried to send her away. Here she was, just about to throw the towel in because she couldn't deal with a bit of alienness. Well alien was what she'd signed up for, and alien was what she was sticking with.

Donna squared her shoulders, then gave the manual another once-over. She could do this.

She'd need his shirt off, was the first thing Donna realized. After an internal struggle, she decided she'd much rather know for certain his hearts were beating than preserve his modesty. Donna quickly undid the buttons—and underneath that was a t-shirt of course. God, how many layers was he wearing? She perched on her knees on the side of the bed and pulled him up into an approximation of sitting, then got to work tugging the clothes off his currently boneless body.

As she worked them over his head, he slumped forward, narrowly avoiding landing face-first into her chest. Donna felt her face heat up at the thought and thanked every higher power she knew of, alien or otherwise, that he was completely out of it. She blew her bangs out of her eyes in a huff, then eased the Doctor off her shoulder and onto his back again.

Well, at least the hard part was over with. She consulted the manual once more, the instructions having slipped her mind do to her rather flustered state, then got to work placing the electrodes in the appropriate positions. Her stomach flipped around a bit every time her hands brushed his bare skin. This really wasn't what they were—but he'd told her about the machine, which meant he ought to have known what it would entail. There wasn't anything weird about her touching him half-naked if it was to help him through a crisis. Just like the detox kiss. Nothing more to it.

All the same, Donna felt herself relax as soon as she finished. She doubted she'd get hired on at any hospitals any time soon, but when she turned the machine on it seemed to be in working order. His hearts _were_ beating, just at an incredibly slow rate. Hearing it did make her feel better all the same.

Donna fussed around with the blankets a bit. There wasn't really a way to cover him up completely with the electrodes in the way, but she could make sure he was as warm as he could be, all things considered.

Eventually she retook her seat, observing her handiwork critically. It was unsettling, seeing him so still. The ice wasn't helping matters. He'd said it was a healing coma which meant he'd likely be unconscious for a while, but Donna wished more than anything he'd wake up. She missed him.

It was more important he do whatever he needed to get better, of course. Donna couldn't help but wonder how else she might help. He wasn't human, but she couldn't see why some of the normal creature comforts wouldn't go amiss once he'd woken back up. He'd have to be hungry, wouldn't he? She would be. Truthfully, she was hungry now.

Donna half-stood—but paused as a thought occurred to her. What if something happened while she was gone? She'd promised she'd be here.

Donna looked about the room, but there didn't seem to be anything there that could help her. "Listen, if something's wrong, just—just let me know."

She felt a bit silly, but then the TARDIS hummed, and she took that to mean the ship understood.

"Thanks."

She walked to the nearest kitchen and rummaged in the cabinets for supplies. There was enough for a decent soup, she reckoned. Probably the first proper meal he would have in days. She really needed to work on him a bit more in that regard. He barely took care of himself on a normal day, and a brush like this had her more worried than ever.

Donna occupied herself with cooking, feeling some of the tension that had built up in her ever since the gunshot leech out of her slowly as she concentrated on one of her mum's recipes. It had always been her favorite when she was home sick, and she didn't see why it wouldn't do in this case.

She fixed herself a small bowl to eat. It'd be no good if she was running on an empty stomach through this whole thing, and anyway it'd be a good idea to check if her attempt had been any good. Her mum made it better, but Donna didn't imagine Spaceman could be all that picky; he lived off bananas, what did he know?

She was just finishing transferring the rest of the soup to a crock pot so it could sit till he woke when a terrified cry echoed through the TARDIS and made her blood run cold.

"Donna! _Donna_!"

She placed the lid on the crock pot and raced back down the corridor.

"Doctor!"

He was thrashing in the bed, eyes still closed. Two of the blankets had been knocked off him onto the floor. Electrodes were popping off his chest and causing the machine to go wild with beeping. Donna hurried to switch it off, then sat on the bed.

"I'm here, I'm here," she said, grabbing for his hands and pulling them back down. She leaned over him, a hand on his cheek. The ice was entirely gone to her relief, and he seemed just the slightest bit warmer than when he'd passed out. "I'm right here, Spaceman."

"Donna," the Doctor whimpered, limbs stilling.

"You're safe. I'm safe. We're back on the TARDIS, we're home." That last bit had sort of slipped out by accident. She'd never called the TARDIS home before. But it was, wasn't it? She lived here with the Doctor and planned to the rest of her life. She couldn't imagine anywhere else as home, not even her mother's house as much as she loved her and Gramps.

"Donna," the Doctor said again, less urgently than the other times.

"Is that the only word you remember, now?" She couldn't help teasing with a laugh, withdrawing her hand. "Wouldn't that be a change?"

The Doctor's face turned towards her and she wondered if perhaps he was waking at last. Rather than speak or open his eyes, he simply bent practically in half, head tucked to brush against her thigh. Then he stilled again. He'd been…looking for her? She reached out, tentatively, and smoothed a hand over the back of his head and neck. This couldn't be an accident. For one thing, it didn't look remotely comfortable.

Donna lifted him briefly so she could shift around and lean her back against the pillows, and also so he was no longer trying to twist himself into a pretzel to be near her. His head ended up half in her lap now, and then he _nuzzled closer_. Oh, she was not letting him live this down. Not ever. That was if she didn't die of embarrassment first. This was way beyond just-mates territory.

She shouldn't mind it, really. Here, alone on the TARDIS, and him seeking her out for comfort in his sleep. What was the point of getting bothered? She always got so bothered by this sort of thing when they were traveling. It wasn't that she didn't want him to turn to her; he was her best friend. Her best friend who made her laugh—and cry—more than anyone she'd ever met, who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, and who everyone thought she was seeing if not married to soon as they looked at the two of them.

"Oh, you dunce," she muttered to herself. How'd she gone and done the one thing they'd agreed not to do right at the start? She'd considered herself above fancying him like Martha had and somehow plunged straight into falling for him instead. Of course it nearly took him dying on her for her to realize.

"You're never doing something like this to me again," she decided, not really leaving any room for the unconscious Doctor to respond. What if he'd been awake for this and seen how unintentionally obvious she was being? Then she'd really be in trouble.

What was she going to do? If he found out, well, that'd be the end of the line, wouldn't it? Donna felt a lump rise in her throat at just the thought. He couldn't find out. She'd just have to be careful was all. Make certain anyone they met on their travels was told emphatically they were not a couple, never would be. Look after him, but not too closely.

Donna glanced down at the Doctor, his head resting in her lap. She supposed she could have one exception. Anyway, he had started it. That was her defense, and she was sticking to it. The fact that she'd been absentmindedly running a hand through his hair as her whole brain had gone into overdrive to process all this didn't need to be brought up at all.

She was really, _really_ in trouble.

"Daft Martian," she said. Then she yawned. Dealing with near death experiences and life shattering realizations was tiring work. She really ought to move back to the chair.

And that was the last thing Donna remembered.

It took some time for the Doctor to come round properly. Healing comas always left a Time Lord a little disoriented at first, but he felt less groggy and more…hazy, like he was slowly being pulled from a very pleasant dream. It wasn't very usual for him at all; the last time he'd been incapacitated like this, he'd woken up alone and afraid—and also nearly suffocated, though that bit hadn't been Jo's fault.

He'd lost his shirt, both shirts actually, at some point. He didn't recall when that had happened. Donna had helped him to bed, then she'd gotten a bit panicky as he started to fall into the coma—admittedly, he could have explained himself better, but he'd been so tired—and then there was nothing, really.

The Doctor was warm, despite his lack of layers. His pillow was warm. Warmer than it had any right to be, anyway, being a pillow. It was radiating heat.

His pillow was alive.

The Doctor's eyes snapped open, allowing him to confirm that, yes, that was a thigh his cheek was resting on. A thigh that went up and up out of his field of vision, though he thought he could follow the trajectory enough to state with some confidence that it and the rest of the person it was a part of was curled around him. He turned his head, dislodging a hand that had been tangled in his hair.

Donna. Donna was curled around him. He hoped his respiratory bypass would be able to take the strain so soon after a healing coma or he was about to have the most inglorious regeneration in history.

She was sleeping, clearly. Still wearing her clothes from their botched attempt at Rome. He wondered how long he'd been out, how long she must have sat up with him before exhaustion caught up with her. She looked peaceful, now. Beautiful, always.

Some of her hair had fallen in her face. On impulse, he reached up and tucked it behind her ear. Donna sighed in her sleep and scooched in a little closer. He gulped.

Oh, this was bad. She was going to be furious with him.

Quietly, the Doctor ventured, "Donna?"

There was some activity beneath her eyelids, but she didn't stir much more than that.

A little louder, it seemed. "Donna?"

"Huh?" Her brow creased, and even that looked adorable so that he had to bite down a grin, then she was blinking in bleary confusion. "What?"

"Er, morning," he greeted as casually as he could make it. Her gaze focused, then zeroed in on him.

"Oh. My. God." She breathed, eyes widening, no doubt in horror.

"Donna," he began, slow and careful, "I don't exactly remember everything that happened so, er, _this_—" He glanced pointedly at the scant space between them.

Donna sat up, so he did as well. She had shoved herself about as far back against the wall as possible.

"I—I wasn't—you were thrashing about, so I was just sitting here to calm you down. That's all!" She defended in a rush.

"Right!" He agreed quickly.

"Must have just dropped off after! You're hard work!" Donna accused, face turning redder than he could ever remember.

"Absolutely!" He conceded. "I'm sure I was totally not being myself in anything I might have said or done." It was really important she believed that bit.

"Course!" They sat there, staring at each other, neither of them seeming to know what the next move to make was. Then Donna blurted, "Soup!"

The Doctor blinked. "What?"

"I made soup, thought you could eat something when you'd woken up. It's in a crock pot. I'll go get it!" She scrambled to her feet and out the door, though before it could slide shut she poked her head back in. "Thank God you're not dead!" Then promptly fled again.

He stared at the closed door for a moment after she'd gone, baffled. He'd been expecting her to be angry, maybe even a slap—though truthfully, he couldn't recall the last time she'd given him one of those. Instead, she'd panicked, like she'd thought _he_ would be upset.

Oh, if she only knew waking up to Donna Noble was the last thing that could possibly upset him. The Doctor leaned back against the pillows, Donna's warmth already receding from them. He looked over the side and spotted his t-shirt on the floor, so he grabbed that and slipped it back on. For his comfort as much as Donna's.

Although, she would have had to have been the one to remove it, so it followed she couldn't be that uncomfortable seeing his bare chest much less sharing a bed with it. And hang on, how _had_ his head ended up in her lap?

No. _No_, it wasn't possible. He did not get that lucky ever. Donna wasn't, Donna couldn't be—

Yet if he concentrated hard enough, he could still remember the feel of her fingers in his hair.

A smile, small yet daring, rose to the Doctor's lips.

"Getting shot at. Must do that more often."


End file.
